Apologies Mister Lizard, didn't mean to step on you. But you kind of blend with the rock. It's not like in the zoo; where there's a sign and pointing kids and barriers, to boot. When one looks just like one's backdrop, it behooves one to scoot. Sorry again about your tail. I'm sure it will grow back. Call it a teachable moment, & get an orange knapsack!
The millipede was a foot long, but, some might ask, whose foot? Its own feet being quite petite might suggest Lilliput. But though it wasn't a footlong foot, it was long for a bug, a worm, a beetle, a wood mouse, a spider, or a slug. A snake that long would be a babe, or, at least, quite stunted. So, now I find my amazement being a bit blunted.
The field is neat; the stalks are baled; the grain sits in baskets to be carried back home to dry on thin sheets of plastic. The chaff will be cracked from the grain so that it can be ground into flour, and baked into bread that I'll eat sans a sound as I enjoy the view.
The crab, it had one tiny claw; it couldn't be its first. What kind of species harvests limbs? Oh, they must be the worst.
The stone man flows; the snake creeps down - arm becoming viper. It's slow, but silently it flows, stealthy as a sniper. And though he's stone, I feel him go via sympathetic flow. Mirror neurons fire in my brain, taking me high to low... or so it feels.
The columns of the forest lift the vaulted canopy. I walk down below on the trail that parts understory. Each step through the loam brings me home to barefoot days of yore. When I thought nothing of placing skin to the forest floor -- while letting the woods become me as I grew into it; I would yield my identity. To nature, I'd submit. And in a walk, I did become everything and nothing, falling into a peace at once humbling and stunning.
I have walked in deep, dark places, and crawled through darker, still -- gas-lit slums long after the dusk, where lamplight failed to spill. So surprised by fleeting faces that faded in and out -- like visions from the sleep-drift, they never loiter about. They come, they see, and then they pass -- these alien observers. They pass with just a fleeting glance, like someone else's server. They care not what you think you need, or who you think you are. You're just an automaton shopper within the grand bazaar.
We watch the naked emperor like nothing is amiss, and recoil upon sight of frogs wise of what lies in a kiss. We trust the familiar too much, and the odd too little. We love a beauty even when she's selfish or she's brittle. There is a Jack for each giant, and many clever cats, and, sometimes, we cheat the man who takes out all our rats. The other foot will always fall, even when blinded by hope. Sometimes it pays to play dimwit, but not be an outright dope. Each tale tells us of ways to be a better, kinder soul in a world filled with all manner of monster, fiend, and troll.
The boulders' slothful migration inched them down the hillside. They moved so slow you'd never know they were in leaden landslide.
everything is one thing. the way we are rivers. and all things are nothing; as takers are givers. i'm flow-er and flow-ee -- twisting as I'm drifting, not fancy or showy nor highly uplifting. just a leaf on a stream, bumping into others, gliding through a fond dream with sisters and brothers.
Tiger Riding for Beginners 